


Correspondence

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-24
Updated: 2004-02-24
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: When Ethan left Pittsburgh, he still seemed dedicated in letting Justin know what he was up to.





	Correspondence

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

It had been a year since Justin had broken it off with Ethan, and if he were to be perfectly honest, he didn’t think about the nimble-fingered fiddler terribly often. For one thing, he was back with Brian, and the ad exec had a way of satisfying him so thoroughly that there was no energy *left* to dedicate to memories of his brief fling with the romantic bullshit that was as much Ethan’s calling card as his violin.

Still, the dark-haired artist(e) had ran into Justin at school on a number of occasions, and after he pleaded with the blond not to ignore him, Justin had reluctantly agreed that they could keep in touch. He didn’t tell Brian about this, not because the brunet didn’t trust him, but because he didn’t see the need to utter a name that left his older lover’s jaw clenched tight in anger more than was absolutely necessary. “Ian? Ian *who*?” was typically as much exposure as Ethan got in the Kinney-Taylor household; all of his CDs had been trashed or otherwise gotten rid of (Ted had taken a few of them off Justin’s hands), and the entire eight or nine month separation was essentially a blip on the radar screen of Brian and Justin’s relationship.

And yet, when Ethan left Pittsburgh, he still seemed dedicated in letting Justin know what he was up to. At first, it was the occasional phone call, but as both men became acclimated to him popping up on the caller ID, so too did they neglect to pick up the phone. It was then that Ethan opted for snail mail – sometimes letters, written in his curly, faggy scrawl, but more often than not postcards, dashed off from whatever motel/hotel he was staying in, usually with a glossy picture of the city it came postmarked from on the front. 

“He’s doing well”, Justin noted off-handedly to Brian after the older man set the latest memento on the table next to his lover’s bowl of cereal. “I guess he got himself an agent.”

“Is that so?” Brian asked dismissively, biting into a piece of wheat toast. 

“Yeah,” Justin replied, realizing his lover was completely uninterested. He scanned the four or five sentences a couple of times, eyes widening. “Holy shit, listen to this: ‘just wanted to let you know that I have a girlfriend now named Shelly. Bob said it wasn’t enough not to be gay – he wanted me to publicly acknowledge my S.O. I guess it doesn’t really make a difference now. Yours in spirit, Ethan.’” Justin’s featured grew incomprehensible as the blond let it sink in.

“Well,” Brian said finally as silence hung over the morning meal. “I guess the esteemed Mr. Gold found he had an affinity for snatch after all.” He stood up and planted a kiss on his lover’s cheek before making his way to the bathroom. “Maybe he figured he couldn’t replace you with another y-chromosome carrier.” 

Justin grinned. “As long as you don’t follow suit, I don’t give a shit.” 

Brian visibly shuddered. “The closest I’d come to pussy is a cat, and in case you hadn’t noticed, Sunshine, Casa de Kinney is *not* pet-proof.” He leered at his boyfriend; “lucky for you, though, it does come equipped with the latest in blond twink paraphernalia.” 

He barely missed the splash of projectile cereal and milk that Justin launched at him with his spoon.


End file.
